


Yuuri's Drunk (but at least he keeps his pants on)

by IncandescentAntelope



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adoption, Canon Universe, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Coach Katsuki Yuuri, Coach Victor Nikiforov, Drinking, Family, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Parenthood, Planning for a Family, Post-Canon, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Yuuri gets drunk at a banquet again, ice husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 06:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18231461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: After Coach Katsuki Yuuri's skater wins her first gold at Worlds, he celebrates with champagne. A lot of champagne.





	Yuuri's Drunk (but at least he keeps his pants on)

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for swearing and drinking.
> 
> One big thank you to [Fuzzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzycatsandgoofyhats) for beta-ing this!

In the aftermath of Worlds, Viktor finds himself in the particularly difficult position of being both husband of, and chaperone for, the single cutest drunk Japanese man on Earth. Yuuri only indulges in champagne for celebrations, and his first student taking gold at Worlds is certainly worth celebrating. 

Yuuri had retired a year ago, following Viktor, who had stepped into coaching full time five years back, taking Yakov's place at the head of the Russian team. He had very reluctantly retired to Moscow, rekindling a quiet flame with Lillia after all these years. Yuuri had never really seen himself as a father, but good god, when Emi stood on the top of the podium, a gold medal in her hand and a Japanese flag draped over her shoulders, Yuuri felt like a proud father.

 _“Katsuki-sensei!”_ Emi had cried when she skated off the ice after her Free, flinging her arms around Yuuri's neck. 

_“You did beautifully, Emi-chan.”_ Yuuri had whispered in her ear as they walked to the Kiss and Cry, her red and white guards clicked into place. Viktor had watched it all from the barrier, Yuri's group had already skated that day. His heart throbbed, seeing Yuuri interacting with his skater. Maybe it was time to bring up adoption again. Yuuri had insisted that he wasn't good enough to be a father. But seeing him with Emi… Viktor knew better.

Viktor had intended to mention it after the banquet, but Yuuri's JSF coworkers and sponsors had other ideas. Yuuri always tends to lean on the seemingly preset Japanese politeness, he never refuses a drink. (Unless he's with his family, in which case he attempts to preserve his dignity and passes the drink to his father.) Now steeped in far too many flutes of champagne to count, Yuuri is sobbing while looking at the official photos of Emi on the podium, blubbering about making posters and posting them all over Japan, _“like the blessing you are, Emi-chaaaaan”._

Viktor loves seeing Yuuri so emotional, so free of his inhibitions. A part of Viktor hopes that this turns into another Sochi situation, but he knows Yuuri will probably send himself into a tailspin in the morning. So Viktor keeps his distance, letting Yuuri bask in the glory of such an impressive win. The distinct click of a tongue alerts Viktor to Yuri's presence at his side, leaned against the wall.

“Why is your pig husband such a lightweight?” Yuri snaps, sipping from a flute of his own.

“I think it's genetic. But at least he's a cute piggy.” Viktor smiles fondly, watching Yuuri hug Emi for the thousandth time that night. 

“Ew.” Yuri grumbles, “You're gross, old man.” 

“You're no better with your fawning, Yura, don't kid yourself.” Viktor replies easily, chuckling when Yuri recoils from the words like they had snapped at him. 

“Shut up! I don't _fawn_!” He growls, noticing how loud his voice has grown over the din of the crowd. “I don't make those love-struck puppy eyes at Beka like you-” Yuri claps a hand over his mouth at the sudden admission. Viktor chuckles brightly, having finally worked it out of him.

“You've been seeing him for a while, haven't you?” he asks simply, not looking up from the rim of his glass. 

“Shut up. I'll kill you.” Yuri snarls, the venom in his voice nothing but a front. Viktor has been coaching Yuri for too long to fall for it. His real anger is quiet; cold and biting. “Don't you _fucking_ dare tell Katsudon.” He adds. 

“You know I can't do that, Yura.” Viktor laughs again, happy to know that Yuri hasn't changed a bit with the passage of time, if only having outgrown him by a few centimeters. He traces Yuri's gaze to the DJ booth, where Otabek stands, having found his preferred place for these kinds of gatherings, fulfilling his duty as the ISU's chosen entertainment. There's a soft fondness in Yuri's eyes, something Viktor knows too well, having been shown photos of his own face when mooning over Yuuri.

“He wants to move in together.” Yuri says quietly, mumbled into his champagne. “We looked at apartments in Almaty…” _So that's what this is about._

“I assume you'll begin training without your coach, _da_?” Viktor asks, again, not meeting Yuri's eye. His skater remains silent. “As long as you send video of your practices and ask for help from Otabek's coach, I don't mind.” Viktor replies coolly. He had been expecting it, to be completely honest. Yuri was coming up on twenty-four… he couldn't stay in the nest forever. 

But Viktor had always wanted to be a father. On some level. And he had had that in Yuri. It feels like a loss. But all of that is overshadowed by the pride he has in his skater. Yuri is already on his way to breaking every one of Viktor's records, the ones that Yuuri hadn't broken himself, that is. This was Yuri's fourth gold at Worlds, his first ended Yuuri's streak of six.

“You… you aren't upset?” Yuri asks, in a voice far too gentle to belong to Russia's Ice Tiger. Viktor chooses then to turn, meeting Yuri's eye. 

“Of course not. I'm proud of you beyond words.” Viktor responds, his voice catching in his throat. “Can I give you some advice?” Yuri's mouth bunches up into a tight frown and he tosses his long, blonde braid over his shoulder.

“Fine.” He replies in a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Don't let him slip through your fingers. Don't play games. Communicate. Build each other up and always. Always. Encourage each other.” Viktor says, thinking of the nights he and Yuuri had fought well into the morning over small miscommunications and stubborn arguments over detergent and diet plans. “And check with him before you buy a different brand of laundry soap.”

“How fucking domestic of you, Coach.” Yuri snorts a laugh and tosses back the rest of his champagne. 

“Promise me you'll FaceTime? We can help you move.” Viktor offers, sniffing back a tear.

“Ugh, you're gross.” Yuri grimaces unconvincingly, before doing the one thing Viktor never thought he'd be blessed enough to see. Yuri wraps his arms around Viktor's shoulders. “Thank you. For everything.” He says with a tiny waver in his voice. 

Viktor is too shocked to move for a moment, but slowly wraps his arms around Yuri's middle. “You’re welcome, Yurachka.” As soon as the moment began, it's over and Yuri is walking away and mumbling in horribly impolite Russian, leaving Viktor alone again by the punch bowl.

“Viiiiitya~” Viktor's ears perk up at the sound of his husband's voice across the room, holding up two flutes of champagne. “One for you!” He slurs adorably, and Viktor couldn't have ignored him if he tried. He watches Yuuri nearly spill one of the drinks as he waves him over, giggling into his elbow when he sloshes a bit onto his suit jacket. Viktor laughs and rolls his eyes, quickly crossing the room. 

“You know what, _zolotse_ , I think you've had enough for one night.” Viktor chuckles and attempts to pluck both flutes from Yuuri's fingertips, only to stop when Yuuri pouts in that unfairly cute way. “Okay, okay, one more. But after this you're cut off, _da_?”

“Okie dokie, Viktooooru~” Yuuri giggles brightly, curling into Viktor's side and sipping his drink slowly, clearly trying to save what he knows is his last. The group of sponsors that had huddled around him began chatting with Viktor as well, asking about Yuri's aspirations and his hopes for his skater in the next season. He provides the usual non-committal answer, the 'Yuri is going to be pushing a lot of boundaries, as always, but details are still to be determined’ spiel. He'll hold off on announcing his move to Almaty until he and Otabek land on their feet.

Even though Yuuri is positively swimming in his drink, Viktor can see the fondness in his eyes as he watches Emi and her mother chatting with a few officials from the JSF, undoubtedly asking about her plans for the Olympics next year, which, being sixteen, would be her first. Given how drunk he already is, there's a non-zero chance that Yuuri won't remember most of tonight, so Viktor pushes away the thoughts of bringing the conversation back up, but Viktor indulges himself in fantasies of raising an unstoppable dynasty of figure skaters. Unless they don't want to, he and Yuuri would support them in whatever their hypothetical children choose to do. 

He nearly loses himself in the thoughts when he feels Yuuri shift against him. He looks down to see Yuuri, eyes shut and mouth slightly open, pressed against his side. Nearly asleep. To be expected, honestly. He tended to crash after having too much now, not exactly as spry as he had been ten years ago.

“Yuuri, sweetheart, let's say goodbye to Emi and her mother and go home.” Viktor whispers into his hair, kissing the top of his head gently. Yuuri stirs and stands back up, blinking those big brown eyes at him behind his glasses. Viktor can't help but smile at the way Yuuri looks when he's like this, drunk and half-asleep. He looks just like he had all those years ago, minus the tie around his head. And he's wearing pants this time. That's a shame, Viktor muses, suddenly wishing he hadn't left Yuuri alone for so long… his butt looks awfully perky tonight.

He apologizes to the suits he had been chatting with and pulls Yuuri along toward Emi and her mother. Yuuri perks up slightly when he hears his name. What proceeded after that was a very drunk Yuuri hugging and endlessly praising Emi for her hard work and for being his favorite student (she is his only student, and everyone including Yuuri knows this), for her flawless triple axel and for taking gold without having landed her salchow.

“Thank you, Katsuki-sensei.” Emi giggles at his lack of decorum, wrapping her arms around his shoulders again. “I couldn't have done it without you.” 

That's when Yuuri starts crying.

“Alright, Kojima-san, Emi-chan, I think it's time I get your coach home before this gets worse. Have fun tonight. Celebrate a truly spectacular win for all of us, _da_?” Viktor smiles warmly at his husband's skater. 

“I will, thank you, Mr. Katsuki.” Emi replies with her sweet voice, quickly bowing and rising, flashing her bright smile up at him. No matter how many times Viktor hears it, his heart always flips at the name. He had insisted on taking Yuuri's name.

“Viiiiiityaaaaa! She called you Mi-hister Katsuki! That'ssocuuuute!” Yuuri giggles and hiccups as Viktor leads him back to coat check. 

“It is pretty cute, Yuuri.” Viktor smiles and hands Yuuri his jacket, only to be pushed back into his arms.

“I'm too warm for my jacket, Vitya.” He replies simply, like they aren't about to walk out into the cold of a March night. He doesn't push it, knowing the argument won't be worth the hassle. He shrugs into his own jacket, chuckling as Yuuri hooks his arm in Viktor's extended elbow and leans on him for support. The moment they step out into the street, Yuuri is shivering and Viktor bites his tongue to say 'I told you so’, instead, draping his refused jacket over his shoulders. 

Yuuri doesn't argue, just pulls his jacket tighter around his body and sips from his glass. His glass of champagne. How Viktor hadn't noticed that until this very moment is so far beyond him that he doesn't entertain the train of thought for long.

"Yuuuuuri, you probably should have left your glass at the banquet..." He says softly, and Yuuri releases the adorable drunken giggling that always makes Viktor join in with the laughter. 

"W-What glass?” Yuuri says incredulously, holding his hand to his chest in false surprise. “Ohhhhhh right, this one! _Pfffft!_ " Yuuri snorts a laugh and tosses the rest of the bubbling drink back and drops his flute as they walk to the car. "Oops!" He giggles and keeps walking, tugging Viktor along into the parking ramp.

Viktor fights the urge to laugh and tuts instead, adding a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Yuuri, that was crystal… I'll probably have a bill from the ISU waiting for me when we get home. How on Earth are you always so careless when you're drunk?" He teases, tickling Yuuri's ribcage.

"I am not drunk!" Yuuri gasps in mock horror, a hiccup undercutting the manufactured melodrama of the situation. "I’m j-jusssst a liiiiiitle bit tipsy." He insists, sticking his tongue out. The car is parked just ahead, and Viktor starts it before they arrive, the noise making Yuuri jump a bit.

"Oooh-kay. Sure you aren't, Katsuki-sensei.” Viktor teases, tucking his coat a little tighter around his soft, slightly out-of-shape frame as he guides him toward the car. “Let's get you home, da?" Viktor murmurs as they reach the sleek black sedan, pulling the door open and helping Yuuri inside.

"You're r-really pretty Vitya. Why dontcha lemme see wha's under that suit?" Yuuri hiccups again as Viktor shuts the door. _He's too cute when he's drunk. It should be illegal to be that cute._ He chuckles to himself as he rounds the car, opening the door and sliding into his seat. He quickly buckles in and turns his attention to the flushed, giggling Japanese man in the passenger seat, who still hasn't buckled his own belt.

"Yuuuuuuuri, your seat belt..." Viktor chides gently, the reprimand dying on his lips with Yuuri's bright giggling.

“Can't get it to work.” Yuuri shrugs, “Maybe you sh-should do it for me?" He waggles his eyebrows in his adorably sexy way, trying to bring back his Eros, even in his thoroughly champagne-soaked state.

"Really? You want me to strap you in?" Viktor laughs again, his husband never failed to bring a smile to his cheeks.

Yuuri chuckles hotly, leaning over the center console in a clear attempt to kiss him. "That sounds like fun, Vityaaaaaa!"

Viktor rolls his eyes and leans over, pulling the buckle over Yuuri's shoulder despite his fumbling attempts to grab at his tie and pull him in for a kiss. "If you'd just hold still we'll get home sooner.” The buckle finally slides into the receiver, clicking shut. “And you can kiss me and touch me all you want once we get home, Yuuuuuri.” Viktor coos, cupping his drink-flushed cheek in his hand before pulling back to boop him on the nose. Yuuri gives up being stubborn and settles back against the seat, lacing his fingers with Viktor's as they drive through the city back to their hotel. 

Yuuri's happy singing and giggling along with the radio fades after a few minutes, until Yuuri's voice comes in over the music. “Vitya?” Yuuri mumbles softly, the remnants of slap-happy, boozy Yuuri gone in an instant.

“Yes, Yuuri?” Viktor replies, matching Yuuri's quiet tone and turning down the music a few clicks. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, not trusting himself to look in that moment.

“I think I'm ready to be a dad.” 

Everything falls silent for a moment, and Viktor tears his eyes away from the pavement rushing underneath them. It came out of nowhere, a sudden moment of sobriety in the middle of Yuuri’s silly, uninhibited drunkenness. But when Viktor opens his mouth to ask Yuuri if he’s sure, a loud snore interrupts him. Yuuri’s eyes are shut and his mouth is hanging open. How he had managed to fall asleep in the tiny moment between the declaration and Viktor turning his head, Viktor could only hope to guess. 

He chuckles softly and turns the radio back up, sighing as the conversation slips through his fingers again. But he’ll bring it up again at breakfast, when Yuuri is both awake enough and sober enough to hold a conversation. 

"I'm so proud of you, _zolotse_.” Viktor murmurs, lifting Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissing his ring finger softly. “You’ll be an excellent father.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic about everyone's favorite ice husbands and their shenanigans post-retirement. (and yes, the boys definitely have a chat about kiddos when Yuuri sobers up, I promise.) My mental health has taken a bit of a hit lately, so I hope this fluffy cuteness soothes your soul as much as it does mine. 
> 
> Leave kudos if you enjoyed, say hi in the comments if you'd like! Hearing from you all makes my life a little bit brighter!
> 
> ❤️ IA ❤️  
> [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com) | [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAtheAuthor)


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